


Stop Staring

by CavannaRose



Series: Cheetah Fics [3]
Category: Wonder Woman (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Mild Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6107641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lady does not appreciate being stared at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Being wanted was hard on an average person's social life, but when you were as uniquely featured as Barbara Ann Minerva had become it was hell. Even if she wasn't recognized for who she was, her feline attributes drew unwelcome stares and an atmosphere that was not conducive to relaxation. Of course she could always visit Oswald's little place in Gotham, but that dingy city always left a stench on her fur that took forever to wash out.  
  
So here she was, dressed in a long, fashionable jacket with the hood turned up, casting shadows over her facial features, and her tail tucked up under the hem. Padding quietly into the nearly empty pub she moves to the back, sitting in a darkened corner before ordering a thick stout in a soft voice.  
  
Hating the pressure on her sensitive ear tips she pushed the hood back, waiting for the young man to come back with her drink. Unfortunately she got lost in her thoughts, failing to cover her head again as he approached. He stumbled near the table and Barbara's head snapped around, taking in the foolish boy's slack-jawed expression of startlement. She was not in a good mood this evening, and his open mouth filled her with an inexplicably violent urge.  
  
Lightning quick she was on her feet, jacket discarded completely as she clasped his neck with one powerful hand, lifting the young man into the air, her stout falling, forgotten to the floor. Reaching up with a long claw from her other hand she tapped on his chin, forcing his mouth closed.  
  
"You know darling," She purred, her voice dangerously calm to start, "the structure of the jaw is designed in such a way to hold your fool mouth _shut_." She hissed the last word, digging her claws into the sides of his face with her free hand, causing him to let out a ragged scream. She tsked, watching the blood pool in the gouges from her claws, the crimson stain of it racing across his pale skin.  
  
It was too much for her to resist, and she pulled him closer to her face, licking the coppery blood from his face, relishing the depth of flavour the salt from his tears added to the experience. A feral growl escaped the feline criminal's throat, yellow eyes narrowing in pleasure. She placed her mouth close to his ear, enjoying his sobs. "Your fear is the most delicious spice of all. I'd almost forgive your churlishness, but it turns out I'm feeling rather violent and do not wish to."  
  
Gripping more firmly on his neck she slammed the boy against the wall, rattling his brains and making him go silent for a moment. Claws digging deeper into his sallow flesh, digging for the joints, she flexed the muscles in her arms and physically ripped his lower jaw from his body. Blood spurted everywhere, cascading down his front as his tongue lolled useless in the tattered wreckage of his face, gurgling sounds that were neither sob nor scream escaping from his bruised throat.  
  
Dropping him to the ground, Barbara held his jaw in her hand, examining the torn flesh along the edge of it before taking a delicate bite. She wrinkled her nose, tossing it aside like so much rubbish before stepping over the young man's writhing body. "Oh do hush up. If you staunch the bleeding quickly enough and seek medical attention, you may yet live."  
  
Gathering up her jacket she sauntered past the bartender, frozen behind his post with wide eyes and his hand on the phone. "Let the bobbies know I'm holding the lad responsible for my dry cleaning bill." With a smirk she exited the building, the sound of sirens shattering the cool night air as she vanishes down an alleyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Her tail tucked under her long jacket, Cheetah pulled the hood down close around her. Tonight was not a night she wished to be recognized. She slipped down an alley, trying to make the transit from point A to point B in as short a time as possible. She made it to the end, frowning at the wall in her way. As if that was enough to stop her.

A low chuckle sounded from behind her, and she sighed. “Ya came down the wrong alley tonight, girlie.” The man’s voice slurred, heavy with drink and bad intentions. For a moment she considered just climbing the wall and disappearing, but she’d been particularly aggravated lately, and could blow off some steam.

She turned, pulling the folds of fabric tighter around her, drawing out the game. Her light British accent came out wavery, as if she really was some scared female caught in an alley. “J-just leave me alone! Go away!”

The man came closer, still unaware of how dangerous a situation he was truly getting himself into. She could smell the cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke coming off him, and her nose wrinkled in disgust. It was amazing that the police couldn’t catch fools like this on smell alone. “Now ya can do this the easy way or the hard way missy…”

Reveling in her own particular flair for the dramatic she shucked the coat in a single movement, posing before the man, claws and fangs flashing in the dim light. “Oh dearling,” she purred, threat dripping in her tone, “I do so love doing things the hard way.”

“Fuck! It’s one of them freaks!” The man turned to run, and she moved, in front of him in a blink, crouching low to the ground, tail twitching in excited anticipation. He stumbled, still a few steps away, confused eyes going to his left calf where his pantleg was ripped away. The trail of blood on the exposed skin shone whitely made his face pale. “Ya cut me!”

Grinning she licks the blood off her claws, shoulders and spine rolling in predatory delight. “Yes, I did.” This one was particularly dull witted. The game wouldn’t last long at this rate. She moved closer, the man moving jerkily away, back into the alley he had attempted to trap her in. "Now duckie, I'm not exactly one to do the heroes work for them, but for you... I shall make an exception."

The villainous feline made an example of the petty hoodlum. Messily dissecting him and scattering the pieces all over the alley, well... the pieces she didn't eat. After all, certain organs were a delicacy, and she was a creature of refined taste. Licking the last of the carnage from her fur, she examined the morbid sea of red and viscera she had filled the alleyway with. "Well that was fun..."


	3. Chapter 3

Though a woman of refinement and intelligence, Barbara also found herself a victim of her more feline nature. There was a feral hunger running through her veins, one that she rarely sated. She wasn't sure what had set it off this time. The last time that happened, it had been caused by her ... activities with Hunter Zolomon.

Ducking her head so that all of her that could be seen under the hood was her thick, red hair, she traveled down several back alleys before she hooked worthy prey. Her lips curled in anticipation as the trio of young thugs started heckling behind her. She drew them halfway down the darkened corridor before whirling, shedding her jacket.

The poor things didn't stand a chance. She was in a play with her food kind of mood. Tapping into the speed force she puts herself in behind the boys, her claws embedded in the flesh around the tallest one's vertebrae. Her laugh was somewhere between a growl and a purr as she placed one foot on his rump, ripping the spine right out of his body. The air around her filled with his companions' terrified screams as she ran her tongue along the length, lapping up the gore as she stood between the horror-stricken thugs and the only exit. Tossing aside both the body and the spine, she advances on them.

Once more she taps into that thrilling rush of the speed force. It was unnecessary, these petty little boys couldn't keep up with her normal speed, but she was having fun. She snagged the second young man by the arm, hauling him up against her in a rough embrace. "You like to terrify ladies in dark alleys do you?" She purred in his ear, licking the sweat off his skin as the poor man cried and and wet himself. Making a disgusted sound she snapped his neck, eyes seeking the last mark.

Ahh, clever lad was trying to run away. Bending forward, almost on her hands and feet, the arch of her back something that could not be matched by any true human, she gave chase. This time she maintained only the naturally enhanced speed of her cheetah blood. She was on him in an instant, her fangs burying into the side of his face, ripping the flesh noisily from the bone, licking her lips in satisfaction. With careful deliberation she began slowly slicing the exposed skin from his body, dangling it above her like a jerky treat before snapping it up with relish.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for the criminal, she soon grew tired of his screams, plunging her hand into his chest through his back, and crushing his heart in her hand. She tipped her head back, a roar of triumph escaping from her throat before she kicked the bodies aside, loping back through the dark alleys as she made her way back to her flat.


	4. Chapter 4

The bloodlust ebbed and flowed within her like a vicious tide, clawing it's way up from within her self control and washing away her resistance. Barbara Ann Minerva had once been a fine lady and a well-respected scientist, but her transformation came with a cost, and it was one she was more and more willing to pay as she sunk into the reality of what she had become. 

She crept along rooftops, ears twitching at the sounds of the Gotham evening, pupils wide to catch what little light escaped the murky streetlamps. She was an apex predator, and this was her territory. The streets were quiet, as if those dwelling in the neighbourhood knew that danger lurked in the darkened streets. She was patience personified, padding quietly amidst the debris, peering over balustrades. Felines were quiet, cautious, and wiling to wait for the right moment to strike. 

Finally it presented itself, a foolish pair of raucous drunks, out late carousing together. Cheetah licked her lips, claws curling with anticipation as they turned into the alley below her to take a short cut. With a nimble spring she dropped silently onto the ground behind them, stalking them like the beast within her demanded. She froze, filth from the street crackling beneath even her careful tread, so deeply was it piled in this particular corner of the city. Bleary eyed stares turned on her, followed by wide eyes and yelps of concern. Like a blur she struck, fangs catching an upraised arm, embedding in soft flesh while her claws reached out to catch the young man's throat. 

She shook his arm in her mouth like a dog with a rabbit, growling chuckles rumbling in her chest as he choked out a gurgling sob around her clutch at his windpipe. Releasing his arm she raised him into the air, tossing him aside into the wall, stunning him so she could pursue his fleeing compatriot. Apparently there was no honour amongst these men, and his supposed friend was unwilling to even attempt a rescue. Excellent. In a few bounding paces she was on top of the second man, pinning him to the ground as her feline features snarled above him. He trembled uncontrollably, begging for his life. 

With the delicate joy of a cat with a loo roll, she shredded his clothes with her claws, layer by layer until it was skin and muscle tearing under her ministrations. She dug into his chest, inch by inch while he screamed, occasionally dipping her head to lap at the crimson blood pooling in the exposed cavity. When she reached his ribs, shining whitely through the ruined mass, her head dipped again, grasping the bone over his heart in her teeth and yanking with one fearsome snap of her neck, the man going silent finally as the rib broke free. She spat it out, bloody hands plunging into the now gaping hole, tugging the barely pulsing heart from his body. With relish she bit into it, the burst of salty liquid dripping down in her chin as she purred in pleasure. 

So enraptured was she that she forgot the second victim, who took off at a dead run into the night, abandoning his drinking partner to his own grisly fate. Barbara enjoyed her treat with relish, sucking the remaining gore from her claws when she was done, rising before finally remembering the second man. Seeing the alley was empty, she shrugged. It mattered little, the monster within her was satiated for now.


	5. Chapter 5

Pausing at the park, Cheetah took advantage of the fountain to get herself thoroughly cleaned up. Inch by inch she came back from the savage predator, her whole visage morphing as the water ran red and her fur shone it's original yellow-brown again. It was amazing how the subtle shifts in expression and the way she carried herself could alter her appearance so drastically. By the time she was finished, she was every inch the well-off lady she had been before her accident... just a little fuzzier.

Basic grooming taken care of, she ran a hand through her hair, removing the last of the tangles with her claws as she contemplated the remainder of her evening. Though enjoyable, it had hardly been profitable. There was little in the way of valuable antiquities in Gotham, it's reputation making collectors wary of trusting their goods in such a crime-ridden cesspool.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to give the museum a looksee, occasionally they lucked out and got something beautiful, if less valuable than other cities. Moving swiftly through the streets, she soon arrived at the museum, a small smirk of appreciation on her face. Disabling the alarm system was a task of mere moments, it had been broken into so many times it barely worked as is.

Using her claws, she cut a perfectly circular hole in the glass door, reaching through and flipping the simple tumbler lock that guarded the antiquities from the outside world. Clearly even the museum understood how little of value it held anymore. Cheetah stalked through the halls, examining subpar paintings and shattered pottery with little interest. Surely /something/ here was worth adding to her collection.

Her ears pricked forward, the shuffling gait of the elderly night watchman could be heard up the hallway. Only the truly desperate or unemployable risked their lives in a position such as this one. A flash of fang showed her amusement. Tucking herself behind the display, she watched the rotund old man wheeze by, his gaze barely lifting from the dim swath of yellow provided by his flashlight. Truly, the man had already given up. She was about to provide him with a service.

Quietly padding up behind him, she lowered both her hands onto his shoulders, claws slowly digging into his muscles as he let out a startled demand to know who she was. She whispered her identity right next to the man's ear, his sob indicating he was well aware of her reputation before she dug her teeth into the cartilage, ripping it from the side of his head with relish.

He screamed, dropping to the ground as she released her claws, hands clutching the mangled mess rather than going for his radio or weapon. Pitiful fool. Pinning him to the ground, she pried open his mouth, using her claws to slice his tongue out and silence the ear-splitting sounds. The wet gurgles that continued to spill out of his bloody orifice were far more pleasing to the distinguished ear.

Still, she was not overfond of the accusatory glares the distraught man kept sending her, so, still perched on his chest like the feline she was, she leaned forward again, gouging his eyes out with swift efficiency. "It really isn't nice to stare, you know." She berated him, standing and admiring her work. She could kill him, but he was so old he was practically dead anyways.

She turned, picking up an ornate but essentially worthless vase off a nearby stand. At least it was pretty, and her night wasn't a complete waste. Popping one of the eyes into her mouth like a grape she ambled away, content for now.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late. Barbara sat in her home, the lights off despite the hour. Often she forgot them, her feline vision rendering them all but useless. Moonlight streamed in through the large windows, providing all the illumination she needed. The predatory female was restless, stalking the halls of her abode, one hand caressing the objets d'art and historical artefacts she had liberated over her years as the Cheetah. What did it all amount to, in the end? Nothing. She was a reviled villain, not even considered amidst the top tier, though she went toe to toe with the vaunted Wonder Woman at every opportunity. She'd made the Man of Steel bleed, and was still relegated to the B-List. Hades, they didn't even consider her the prissy Miss Prince's main antagonist! The gall of it all fueled the feral rage that had run rampant through her system of late. Urzkartaga was restless, pounding the primal heartbeat of the jungle within her breast, demanding sacrifice upon sacrifice.

She was a woman of intelligence, education and privilege, but who was she to fight against the summons from the God that gave her such wondrous powers? She picked up a vase from the shelf, worthless though attractive, barely two centuries old. Turning the piece around in her hand, she examined it for several long moments before tossing it against the wall, smashing it into a thousand tiny pieces. She stepped over the scattered shards, seemingly uncaring ... or perhaps just unaware. The bloodlust was rising within her once more, and she craved the hunt.

In a flash she was stalking the rooftops of the city, yellow eyes scanning the silent streets for her prey. Rumours of the violent deaths plaguing the area had spread, and even for this part of town the city was eerily empty. No one wished to be caught out after dark. Sensational images of the wrecks she left behind had been splashed across newspapers throughout the region, leaked despite the police's desire to keep the nature of the killings a secret. As Barbara stalked across the roofs, she could feel the underlying terror that breathed along the gloomy sidewalks. They didn't know who she was, or where she was, but they feared her. That was good. That was right. They would learn her name in time, and she would be attributed the respect she deserved. The Cheetah was not to be trifled with, nor was she to be dismissed.

There, a nervous young woman rushing home from a late shift caught her eye. The timid creature clutched her jacket close, nervous eyes darting across the shadows in her path, scurrying home to supposed safety. The predator within her desired to pounce, to show the woman that she was right to fear the night, that she was on the bottom rung of the food chain, but Barbara resisted. She had no issue with innocent victims, but other than the one tiara-wearing exception, she preferred to subject only males to her claws and fangs. The females of the city had enough predators stalking them, and she refused to be one of many. She bypassed the young mother, just another shadow crossing the streetlamps. Her tail twitching with the urge to kill. She had to find someone soon, or else she might just lose control of the beast within her breast.

She traveled across alleys and thoroughfares, venturing further afield than she normally stalked. The warnings from the Commissioner had apparently stuck for once, and most citizens were staying inside after dark. Perhaps she'd pay him a visit within the comfort of his own home some day soon, prove to the man that a locked door didn't protect you from this particular night hunter. But not tonight. Tonight she desired something quick and simple. She wasn't sending a message, the Cheetah simply wished to feel blood on her fur, and flesh across her tongue.

The slamming of a car door caught her attention, ears twitching forward to place the sound. Up ahead, one street over. With the swiftness of the cat whose name she had assumed, she darted down the suburban streets, even here she did not feel out of place, for she stalked where she pleased, and where she placed her feet became hers with a feline surety that was ingrained in her very bones. There, a business man home from a late night of meetings over drinks, phone cradled between his ear and shoulder as he loudly finalized some plan or another while juggling his suitcase and keys. The arrogance of the man, causing such a disturbance when the rest of the neighbourhood huddled in horror, it slated him for death more than anything else.

Barbara padded quietly up the street, on all fours, hips rolling in a fashion that human bones simply were not designed to emulate. In this moment she was more animal than anything else, tongue darting out to trace along her fangs in anticipation. The man dropped his keys, swearing and hanging up the phone, fumbling to get himself sorted, and she sprang, pinning him against the door. He shouted, startled. Clearly he did not listen to the warnings the police force had issued, or perhaps he felt himself above it all. The hunter held him against the solid wood of his door, golden eyes sweeping over his frame assessingly. He began to babble a protest, offering her all kinds of things in exchange for his life. She laughed, somewhere between a purr and a growl, a wholly inhuman sound that silenced the stream of words from his lips.

"Fool," she hissed, "What could you possibly offer /me/? I have held the wonders of the ancient world in my hand, your petty baubles mean nothing. Nothing!" Her head darted forward, razor sharp teeth wrapping around his Adam's apple. That first burst of blood splashed up, bathing both their faces in warm crimson before she wrenched her neck back, ripping open the front of his throat. Her victim gurgled, attempting to cough or scream, neither of which truly mattered. She chewed, his horror-stricken eyes slowly dimming as his life's blood poured from the gaping wound below his chin, soaking his expensive suit. The last thing the man saw before he died, was her blood covered visage, grinning.

She dropped the quickly cooling corpse to the ground, tapping a clawed finger against her chest as she debated. Perhaps she was in the mood for a little steak and kidney pie tonight. Not needing anything beyond which Urzkartaga had provided her, she opened his sides, extracting the kidneys from his abdomen messily. He was remarkably fit, and it took her a few, long moments to saw through the muscle tissue in order to retrieve her treat. Soon she held the bean-shaped organs cupped in the palm of one hand, testing their resistance with a small, satisfying squeeze. Unable to resist the urge, she tore a bite out of one, feeling the soft give of the tissue, easing the hunger within her.

A soft sound caught her attention, a coo of distress, and her eyes shot upward, to catch sight of a small face pressed against the window, eyes rounded with horror. The feline female waved a clawed hand, smile still stretched across her face, before turning tail and disappearing into the darkness. The child's broken sleep and nightmares were of no concern to the Cheetah.


	7. Chapter 7

The nights were no longer offering Cheetah the victims she desired. Newscasts and police warnings had finally penetrated the public's miasma of apathy, and as a group they had moved inside after dark. Despite this, the police was unable to locate her. She was fast, she was vicious, and she was eluding their grasp as if she were truly a nightmare. One violent ghost slipping through the grasp of the law, spreading her reign of terror over the city streets. Well if the frightened little niblets didn't wish to come out to play, then Barbara would just have to go in and fish them out of their wee hidey holes.

She'd stalked this particular dreg of human society from the two-bit bar where he served sub-par draft. Her recent spree of gory homicides had forced all the local watering holes to close up shop early, but man's desire to disappear into the bottom of a bottle knew no limits, they simply opened earlier, not a single shop suffering a loss in profits. The feline female sneered. Despicable. If the pathetic peasants put even a fraction of that effort into truly doing something worthwhile instead of erasing their brain cells one by one, think where society could be right now?

Her glare instantly took on a more predatory mein. Well let the poor little lunch snacks marinate themselves until their problems piled up around them like vegetables about a roast. A man weighted down by problems of his own making had that particularly delightful flavour of disappointment that sweetened her meal. Nothing better than cutting a life short before the person had accomplished anything of note. That last flash in their eyes, the knowledge that they had done nothing worth remembering, it was something to savour.

She watched as the other occupants of the house bustled out, off to see friends or lovers, occupations of time this particular target seemed to lack. It was one of the things that made him such an appealing target, this withdrawal from the society around him. The only notice he would ever receive, was that which she brought to him when she pulled him to pieces. He had nothing of himself to offer the world, but she would make of him a messy testament to her own power.

She could hear him, alone inside the building, laughing to himself. Such a sad, lonely little creature he must be. No matter, she would raise him up. She would gift him to Urtzkartaga, and the plant God would delight as she bathed in his blood. She padded lightly across the roof of his abode, pausing once or twice to scent his location, assuring herself that she remained undetected. These things were far more fun when the prey was startled. Quietly she slid open the window, sidling inside to the murmured sounds of an Irish accent prattling to himself further in the building.

The halls were dark, night settling around the building like a quiet blanket. No one would violate the imposed curfew, so she knew they had the house to themselves, just her and the baby-faced boy who would never truly be a man. It took her a few tries to find the right door, the empty house causing the sounds of his movements to echo oddly, throwing off her ability to place him. She finally eased open the portal to his private chamber, coming up short as her gaze flickered around his peculiar adornments. A shudder of displeasure coasted down her spine, causing her tail to twitch. What kind of sick freak used clown motifs in their decor? She was truly doing society a favour with tonight's entertainment.

She positioned herself against his door frame for maximum impact, one arm raised above her head, claws digging deep gouges into the lintel, and tail curling away behind the door. She spoke in a with just the barest hint of a teasing purr laced under her posh British accent. "Come out and play, little man, you have a visitor."

To give credit where it was due, he didn't startle immediately, instead turning with an angry tension in his face, a declaration to "Fuck right off and stay out of my fucking room" dying on his lips as he noticed whom exactly had come calling. Dark blue eyes went wide, the whites nearly taking over as Cheetah flashed her fangs in a predatory smile.

"Tsk tsk, now that is rather rude. No wonder everyone else is out and about, while you're left here all by your lonesome, ripe for the picking." She released the wood of the door fame, claws retracting and tail slowly waving back and forth in anticipation as she stalked further into the room. "Come now, boy. A gentleman should stand when a lady enters the room, else he risks giving offense. We wouldn't want to start this meal on the wrong foot, would we?" She gave a deep, purring chuckle, rolling her shoulders and taking a quick step to the left to intercept him as he tried to sidle around her and out the door.

He offered her another string of vile curses, earning a growl of displeasure from the feline. With quick, mincing steps she pushed into his personal space, one hand clutching his throat and pinning him to the wall, feet just barely leaving the ground. It placed his face above hers, but she was fairly certain that it wouldn't be diminishing her place of power at this particular moment. Fangs bared she glowered up at him, squeezing just hard enough to block the air flow so he couldn't interrupt. "This shall be your last warning, if you continue such impolite behaviour I'm going to have to remove your tongue, and though I do love the sound of wet gurgling, I was rather looking forward to a full bodied scream or two this evening. Would you really wish to deny my that pleasure?"

Locking her golden gaze with his, she listened to the sounds of his choking, waiting until his lips took on the faintest blue tinge before dropping him to the ground. The young man fell to his knees, fingers desperately clutching the floor as he coughed violently, attempting to draw air into his oxygen starved lungs. His neck was already showing signs of bruising, the coppery scent of blood tinting the air where her claws had dug into the flesh of his throat. She stalked around the room, picking up things and tossing them aside as he regained his breath. Playing with your food was no fun if you rushed it.

Finally the boy made a move towards the door, and with a nasty smile she placed herself once more between her victim and the exit, bending down to tip his chin up with the point of a single claw. Barbara admired the rage in his eyes, anger still the male's primary emotion over fear, and something else, something darker that she likely would not have the time to explore. Of all her victims, he was the most fascinating. He had made the dance of death something far more interesting than her usual catch and kill. Prey of a higher calibre.

As he made an undignified lurch backwards from her grasp, pushing against the floor to escape her reach, she toyed with him, stalking along the ground on all fours, her hips rolling in a manner that was not possible for the human skeletal structure. The changes Urtzkartaga made in her went right down to the bone, and her feral nature was currently at the fore. She swiped playfully at his feet, snagging one of his socks with a claw, barely catching the skin within before tugging it off. None of his injuries were deep enough to bleed for more than a minute... yet. She tossed the soiled garment aside, dipping her head to lick a drop of blood from the floor, eyes never leaving the young man as he cursed and tried to struggle to his feet while still moving away.

Time to up the ante on the game, she felt. After all, she had already spoken to his unfortunate tendency for the fouler side of language. Moving faster than she had demonstrated as yet, though nowhere near her top speed, she locked her claws around his bare ankle, digging them past the thin layer of flesh and skin, threading them between the delicate bones before giving the limb a fierce tug, the crack of internal workings wrenching out of place was louder even than the rush of air that escaped her victim as he slid back across the floor towards her. Finally fear was in the air, her unrelenting grip crushing the joint, severing tendons with her claws and staining her hand crimson.

"Last warning, boy. I said no swearing." She growled in threat, the sandpaper surface of her tongue following the trail of blood up her wrist and over his ankle, supping from the fresh wound. He attempted to kick against her hold, but it was as if a butterfly was struggling in her grasp, and she allowed another laugh to escape her, this one far more ominous than the first. She slammed the bloody, broken ankle to the floor, ducking as his other foot attempted to land a kick upside her head before she caught that as well, claws sheathed on this hand as she pulled him closer still. She placed a knee on his broken ankle, eliciting a whimper of pain from the Irish lad's lips as she moved her weight onto it, sliding herself up his body.

With both his legs pinned beneath her, his hands began flailing desperately at her head, buffeting her ears in a most unpleasant fashion. Still, some thing came at a cost, and she ignored them as best she could, sliding his shirt up to expose his belly and chest. The boy froze for a moment, confusion and concern crossing his angry face. She doubted he had ever experienced so many emotions at once, delighting in this moment she was sharing with him. She traced her claws along his abdomen, barely penetrating the skin as she caressed the surface above his tender organs. She caught his gaze again, this time close enough to note the small copper rings around his pupils. He did have beautiful eyes, perhaps when this was over she would keep them.

The dawning realization of what was to come made his face that much more beautiful as he struggled against her with renewed vigor, his attempt to buck her off only amusing her now that victory was so close. That was when she caught it, that hint of something darker in his face that had only flashed briefly across it before. Something beyond fear or anger, emotions she was used to producing from her victims, It was almost desire, but more... fascination? Surely he knew at this point that he would not be surviving their encounter, but it was not with the grim acceptance of the world-weary or suicidal, more like the whole process held an interest for him.

Cheetah paused a moment, her teeth bared just over the place where his liver would be found. The villainess was unsure how she felt about this turn of events, eyeing him oddly. What manner of creature found enjoyment in their own last moments among the living? What twisted pleasure was this going to grant the young man before his life was extinguished? Was she willing to forgo her own pleasure based on this odd discovery?

Nay, he had been marked for death, and if the foul-mouthed freak found enjoyment in what was being done, that was just another spice upon her palate. A flavour she had yet to encounter. She held his wrists tightly in her hand, feeling the bones grind together under the pressure of her grasp as she once more lowered her teeth to the pale flesh of his belly. He had added something to her little performance, and though she wasn't sure she liked it the primal instinct within her would not permit her to leave a ready kill.

She was highly aware of him though, of the tension in his spine that was not entirely dread. Slowly she pierced the skin with her fangs, the flesh giving way and the spurt of blood filling her mouth with that familiar copper flavour that made her stomach rumble and her mouth water. She delicately tore at the skin, peeling it back with her mouth a strip at a time as he moved in her grasp. as if trying to get a better view of what was occurring. It was shaking her, this fascination his own demise held for him, throwing her out of the feral mindset, forcing her human self to be more present in the cannibalistic moment than it ever had been before. She used her teeth and tongue and lips to open his abdomen up, rooting around for the plump promise of his liver. Finally she scented the organ, a growl escaping her once more as she dug her teeth into it, ripping out a chunk as blood pooled around her cheeks.

She looked up, caught his pain glazed eyes fixated on her, making a shiver run down her spine. She could not allow this, she would not allow a boy dying in her grasp to intimidate her. She released his arms, not even surprised when his still functional hand moved to play in the wound she had opened up, She reached her claws up to the liver dangling from her mouth, tearing a piece off and, on a whim, offering it to the young man bleeding to death from the wound that she had pulled the organ from. He chewed the piece, his face inscrutable, as if he was judging the flavour of his own internal pieces.

It was too much for Barbara, it was simply too strange. He was an uncanny creature and for the first time in all her years as the Cheetah, she was uncomfortable. Of all the males she'd stalked and killed, he had touched a place within her that could still be shaken, a place she did not know still existed. She pressed her bloody lips to his, claws reaching up to tear out his throat as she kissed him. Gore poured down the front of her, and the odd young man twitched, gagging beneath her until the life finally ran out of him.

She stood over the corpse for a long moment, insecurity washing over her. She did not like these new feelings. Kneeling back beside the boy, she looked into those pretty eyes in his now waxen face. Digging around the sockets with her claws, she plucked them out. They truly were too beautiful to waste, and they would serve as a reminder that there were all kinds of monsters.


	8. Chapter 8

Prey in Gotham had run terribly dry, and Barbara was bored. It didn't matter how many half-eaten presents this particular kitty left on the Bat's front stoop, he just wasn't coming out to play. He was so wrapped up in his little Arkham rejects, that he failed to see the chaos she had wreaked, and she was a lady who disliked being ignored. One last look over the luxurious flat she had been calling home for the last several months, and she was content, blowing a kiss to her treasures before locking it all up. She was not afraid of anyone breaking in and pilfering her goods, they'd all learned what stealing from the Cheetah accomplished.

The real question of the day was, which of this sad little continent's supposed gems should she grace with her presence next? The fact that these soulless Americans thought they held anything resembling a culture never ceased to amuse the British archaeologist that she had once been. Shouldering her bag, she decided to stay on this coast for now, you never knew when a certain bracelet-bearing bimbo was going to come poking about if you got too close to DC.

The real dilemma, did she dare venture into Metropolis? Of all the cities, it was certainly the cleanest. Something about those pristine streets, and shiny, hopeful faces made her want to paint the town red, and crimson, and the sickly taupe tones of offal. They had their flying little boy scout, and it made the inhabitants feel safe. As if they didn't have to worry about what kind of predators might stalk the night.

Perhaps that was because his villains were overblown, borish monsters, smashing their way into his line of vision with an unforgivable lack of discretion. Was he truly ready for a creature like herself? Not one set on destruction, but a more subtle bastion of terror and a sense of mortality. Her sharp canines flashed as a dangerous smile crossed her face. Oh that little boy in tights and a tablecloth wasn't prepared for what she was about to unleash in his back yard, she was certain of it.

It took her a few days to set herself up in Metropolis, her ... unique appearance meaning that she had to make a few back door deals to obtain the privacy and level of comfort she was accustomed to. As loathe as she was, it actually required a brief visit to Luthor, calling upon their time together in the Injustice League to coerce his assistance. The bald tosser was always difficult to finagle assistance from, but he owed her a few favours, and she never failed to collect such things. Finally all was set up, just the way she liked it. All she needed to be truly at home was blood for Urzkartaga's shrine, and a few shiny treasures to brighten up the décor.

She had never been a religious creature, neither before or after the incident that left her permanently... fuzzy. Still, the plant God had granted her abilities beyond her dreams, and though she had yet to test it, possibly eternal youth, since that was what the ritual she'd been attempting was for, before that heinous cretin had sabotaged her. She had learned to live with her feline accoutrements, even to revel in them by this point in her life, and as such she owed a token of gratitude to begin this new chapter in her little horror story.

As darkness fell over Metropolis, Barbara took to the streets, her long coat wrapped around her, hood up to cover her ears, tail tucked close to her leg. She could be one of any hundred people commuting home after a long day of work in the tall buildings blocking out the horizon. It was so different here, alive with a million lights, much like Paris had been, once upon a time when a pampered young woman had traveled the world. It certainly made her job a little more difficult.

Despite the wholesome façade presented by the city at large, even the Man of Steel could not counteract human nature. Even this shiny little jewel had a crack, a dark underbelly that tarnished facets and left everything just a little flawed. This was what Cheetah sought, this is where she would make her presence felt. If you terrorized the criminal element, the civilians quickly followed suit. Once she located Suicide Slum in the northwestern sector, the city's well-kept dirty secret, she began to sniff out her company for the evening meal.

She slipped inside the Ace O' Clubs bar, not approaching anyone, simply observing how the underbelly of a town policed by an all-powerful alien overlord operated. They were certainly more subdued than the miscreants in Gotham, solemn in contrast to the jocularity she was used to from the criminal element. It made sense, in it's own weird way. The Bat was glum, so his villains smiled, Supes was a chipper bloke, so the thugs here were gloomy. Sociology had been her second love, once upon a time, and she itched to delve into this dichotomy further, but the first hints of bloodlust were rising within her, pulling her back into her more feral self.

It only took a few more moments to catch the attention of a pot-bellied miscreant in a stained shirt at the bar, she simply had to tug her jacket a little tighter, highlighting the curvature of her feminine form. Men were the same, anywhere you went. Sure there were good ones, but you wouldn't find them in a run down booze hell at 2am on a Monday night... or was it Tuesday morning? Did it truly matter? Putting a little extra sway in her hips, she padded out of the bar, moving just slow enough so as not to lose the fish she had so carefully baited. To her satisfaction he had brought a friend along. Wasn't she just a lucky little kitten. At least number two looked a little better groomed, leaner meat as well.

She faked a nervous glance back over her shoulder, quickening her pace by the smallest degree, reeling in the idiotic crooks just that little bit more. She had to sell them on this, or she'd lose them before she had the opportunity to strike. There were enough vigilantes on the streets these days that even the most rock-headed goons proceeded with a touch of caution these days. She put a little panic in her breathing, making it just heavy enough to be heard above the soft little scuff of her feet, picking up the pace once more, listening to the men behind her match her speed. Time to reel these buggers in.

With another quick glance behind her, she turned and darted down the nearest alley, coat billowing out slightly as it appeared she was making a mad dash for safety. She had only seconds to set her trap before they would be down the alley behind her, so she tapped into the Speed Force, knowing that Hunter would frown on her using it for this kind of dramatics. She tossed aside the jacket, disappearing further into the darkness of they alleyway. She took up a threatening posture, crouched low like the cat she resembled, ready to pounce.

Just then the pair of crooks rounded the corner, pot-belly looking a little winded and now in the rear. They made it halfway up the alley towards her before well-groomed stumbled to a stop, his companion crashing into his back. They peered around the alley, first with confused frustration, and then with a slowly mounting concern. Perfection.

Cheetah slunk out of the darkness on hands and feet, hips and spine rolling in a way that should be impossible for a bipedal structure. The catlike maneuvers from a human-shaped figure never ceased to put her prey on edge. Golden eyes flashed in the barest hint of streetlight coming over the shoulders of the two thugs, and she let out a low growl.

"Tsk tsk, little boys. Did you think you were the hunters here tonight?" Though well-groomed was apparently made of sterner stuff, pot-belly turned and attempted to bolt from the alley. For this, Barbara needed no speed force, the abilities of the cheetah more than enough to nab one squealing little piggy. She raced past the defensive figure of the well-groomed thug, grinning toothily at pot-belly as she placed herself between him and the exit of the alley.

She stalked closer, a small, purring chuckle rumbling in her chest as he stumbled backwards, trying to hide behind his companion. "So you are a coward, and not just a foul cretin hoping to catch a lady unawares. Truly, men in general never cease to disappoint." It wasn't entirely true, she had met two men in her life that she had admired. Snapper Carr, possessing of no powers but the ability to see past what she had become, and Hunter Zolomon, though he had not returned her appreciation. The cad. Just thinking of the time she had wasted on the yellow-clad speedster raised her bloodlust to a dull roar, and she struck, quick as the cat whose name she had taken.

Razor sharp claws came down across the chest of the better groomed criminal, opening a quartet of bloody slashes. Shock sketched across his face, the ferocity of the attack stunning him momentarily. Barbara did not let the moment go to waste, springing at him with a snarl, clasping clawed hands around his shoulder and wrapping her dexterous legs around his middle as they both toppled to the ground. Fangs flashing she was about to go for his throat when a shot rang out. She was just barely fast enough to dodge, the bullet ripping the tip off her left ear as it flew by her.

The rage in her growl made pot-belly shake terribly, his next pair of shots pinging wildly around the alley as she closed the distance between them. Snaking a hand out she caught him behind the knee, claws snapping a tendon and sliding between the bones as she hauled him forward and on to his backside. Pot-belly wheezed, trying to catch the breath she had knocked out of him, but she gave him no chance.

In the blink of an eye she was perched atop his paunch, malicious gaze staring at him with slit-pupiled intensity. Behind her the second man quietly declared "Fuck it" and took off, abandoning his companion. She let him go, the blood on his chest would lead her to him when she finished here. The man beneath her caught enough of his breath to begin begging for his life, but she did not wish to hear it. She clutched his face, not caring how her nails dug bright red crescents through his cheek as she forced his mouth open one-handed, pressing her lips to his in an almost tender kiss before she bit right through his tongue, pulling the thick, meaty muscle out while he shrieked, gurgling as blood filled his mouth.

Her own face now stained crimson, she tilted her head to one side, chewing contemplatively and holding his face flush against the concrete, letting the blood flow from her mouth onto the ground. She didn't want him to drown after all. Swallowing, she placed her face next to his ear, letting out an irate hiss. "No limp-pricked little tosspot gets to make me bleed and live, I am not happy with you. But, an eye for an eye makes a good start."

Fangs pierced the cartilage of his ear and she pulled, ripping it away from his head and spitting it out to the side. Nobody liked gristle. Apparently her prey was not made of the sternest stuff, a pungent odor filled the air as he fouled himself in fear, eyes rolling back into his head as he lost consciousness. Barbara frowned, disappointed. She delicately stepped off of him, making sure to avoid the pooling fluids around his corpulent form. All that she needed now was the token for Urzkartaga.

With the precision of a butcher she butterflied open his chest, using her claws to peel the skin back carefully, not wanting to tear it and ruin the presentation. She had to slice her way through several layers of fat, occasionally peeling bag a long strand to pop in her mouth, enjoying the rubbery texture as she surveyed her work. Once she had the ribs exposed, and the organs were on display, she pointed to each with a claw.

"Eeny, meeny, miney, moe!" Making her selection, she grasped the collarbone with both hands, placing a foot right on his sternum and giving a firm yank. The crack of the bone shattered the silence, eliciting that purring chuckle from her once more. She reached into the hollow cavity, fishing out the heart with one hand. She pulled it upwards, using her teeth to bite cleanly through the thick arterial veins trying to keep it within his body. Stepping back, she surveyed her kill with a cat's pride. She'd leave that here for someone to find, a present from Cheetah to her new home of Metropolis. She daintily pulled a ziploc bag from her jacket pocket, tumbling the heart inside and tucking it away, before slinging the coat over her shoulders and heading back to her new flat, the other villain forgotten for now.


	9. Chapter 9

Barbara didn't hurry home, letting the cool night air brush over her fur like a caress, easing the last of the bloodlust from her mind. She wasn't sure if the second man had survived his injuries or not, but truly, it wasn't anything that gave her concern. It was more an amusing note playing in the back of her thoughts. She made bets against herself as to his supposed outcome, something small to entertain herself.

Arriving at her flat in a relatively cheerful mood, she discarded her jacket haphazardly and moved directly to Urzkartaga's shrine. It was best to make the offering while the kill was still fresh, and blood still pooled within the ventricles. Kneeling reverently, she murmured, the clicks and tonal sounds of the Tsʼixa dialect falling as naturally from her lips as if she were born speaking them. When one bowed before a god, it was best to speak his language like a native, something she had learned over her time as the embodiment of his lover.

Taking the heart from it's plastic bag, she gave it a careful squeeze, causing the blood to bubble up through the atria and out the tricuspid valve. Crimson trickling over her furry hand she anointed the leopard face on the altar, brushing streaks up it's muzzle and over it's ears before placing the heart in the pot of the plant on the altar. She placed a gentle, blood-stained kiss on the fronds of the plants nearest herself, and then headed to the shower to clean up.

After a long, hot soak, she stepped from the shower, pausing before the mirror. Fresh from the water she tended to avoid her reflection, the sleek fur clinging to her curves and bedraggled red hair was never a great look for the villainess. Turning her head she frowned at the nick missing from the tip of her ear, gently prodding the injury with a claw. It would heal cleanly, she was certain, but she was still very angry that it had happened at all. Ripping that vile creature's heart out had barely eased the rage in her heart, though it had abated the bloodlust.

She wanted to go out again, to stalk the streets and wreak vengeance upon the inhabitants of Metropolis in retaliation for this violation of her person, but instead she waited. If she were going to dance around the boy scout, it was best she didn't overdo it. Superman had to be wooed, and no one could lead a merry chase quite like a cat.


	10. Chapter 10

It never ceased to amaze her, how much these heroes thought they could surprise a cat. Her senses were far beyond what any of them could even guess at. Her ears twitched, the sound of a cape caught in the wind catching her attention first, followed by a wrinkling of her nose. The Kryptonian had a rather unique smell, there was a certain acridity that humans didn't possess in his alien DNA. Perhaps it was produced as his body metabolized the energy from the yellow sun. Whatever it was, he was easy to pick out of a crowd, or a balcony at night.

She took the time to dry off, knowing that a man such as he would never violate her sanctuary during her ablutions. His manners did much to recommend him, it was a shame that he was so convinced she was evil. Otherwise someone that strong could be a rather fascinating distraction of another sort. Instead, they would play this game. Cat and mouse. Predator and prey. Too bad for the flying hero, he thought he was the predator. More fool him.

Fur fluffed and hair spilling down her back in shining waves, she hung up her towel and strode out of the lavatory naked as the cats of the Serengeti. Her fur provided a modest cover, though it didn't conceal enough to appease the considerations of a Southern boy. She paused to pose in the door of the bathroom, one arm stretched above her head as she lounged there. Her pulse of anger had soothed a little, lulled into the background by the offering of amusement at the tights-clad crusader's expense.

She flashed him a sultry smile, all sharp teeth and dark promise. "What can I say, handsome. A kitten gets bored when there's no one to play with, and your backyard was in disarray. Did you like my present?" She chuckled, a low purring sound that rumbled from somewhere deep in her chest. "You know a cat leaves it's kills for the owners of a home to show she can provide, and to express her affection."

She pitched her voice low, the tone teasing and seductive. Oh she didn't expect Superman to fall for her flirtations, quite the opposite. She expected the temptress act to further distress him. Someone had raised him with a good old boy attitude, and that was a set of feathers she couldn't resist ruffling.


	11. Chapter 11

It appeared that the Man of Steel was not pleased with her offerings, the stern look on his face and the emotionless "I bet" that dropped from his lips leaving very little room for her to play. Still, Cheetah was a resourceful cat, and she flashed him another toothy smile as he informed her that she was being evicted from his little city. Her clawed hand dropped from the door frame lightly, coasting down the side of her head and caressing along her throat and chest. Even before she had entered a life of crime, Barbara Ann Minerva had learned that sex was a weapon. Archaeology and Sociology had been fields dominated by men, men who could be turned with just the right gesture, just the right look. Of course, she didn't exactly expect this bastion of Hope and Justice and Americana to fall for her little ploy, she was simply teasing him. Playing with him like a cat might play with a mouse before striking.

"What's wrong, Kryptonian. Rats are not your preferred offering? I had to dig around to locate those, you know. It's not like Gotham, practically choking with birds and bats just begging to be offered up to share." She stalked forward, her gait predatory but her golden eyes hooded and promising dark delights. A purr rumbled up from her chest as she dipped her hips with every step. "Pick your pleasure, handsome. For you I just might do requests."

It was clear that he had at least some idea of what she was playing at, as she got closer though, her nostrils flared. Her sense of smell was more refined than she had ever let on, and though she had not spent that much time near the alien, she could sort through the regular scents. The scent of man, the scent of Kryptonian, the scent of the kill she had made earlier, and one more... the faintest scent of sweat. She licked her lips, the proverbial cat caught with the cream, reaching out one claw to lightly rap his crossed arms.

"Oh my, big boy. Were you a touch shaken by the scene earlier? I do admit, when a body gets all riled up she has a tendency to get a little... primal." She paused to shoot him a saucy wink. "I've heard that it's part of the charm though."


	12. Chapter 12

That low, purring chuckle rumbled from Cheetah's chest again as Superman snatched her hand from his arm. She squeezed it, demonstrating her strength, but glancing up through her lashes teasingly as he did so. "If you wanted to hold hands, darling, you simply had to ask. I would never decline such a tempting morsel as yourself the simplest of pleasures."

She made no effort to take her hand from his, instead watching the hero with a sort of patient indulgence. She was fairly certain she was faster than him, and the knew she could make him bleed, but he was slightly stronger, could fly, and from what she had seen had a few other tricks up his sleeve that made him a match for her claws and teeth. He was certainly a more difficult opponent than the Wonder Bitch, but the feline female never had lacked confidence, and she felt she was more than a match for him intellectually.

"Now I'm not strictly speaking an American citizen, my extra-terrestrial temptation, but if I recall correctly over half the states in this glorious capitalist country still have the death penalty. Sounds an awful lot like my method is /exactly/ how we deal with crime here, I just got a tad... preemptive?"

She chuckled again, finally releasing his hand with a snap of her own. Small gestures that made it seem like she was in control. Dominance in the animal kingdom was a delicate balance, and she was fairly good at walking that line.

"You may not have enjoyed my methods, but the end result is the same one that would have occurred in oh, I don't know... Texas, Utah, Nevada, Florida, Kansas.... Correct me if I'm wrong on any of these counts, duckie." Her teeth flashed in a dangerous smile.


End file.
